


Question Existing

by Kasiarzyna



Series: tma owns my bi ass [3]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, Manipulation, Other, Reader-Insert, Romance, Unhealthy Relationships, Workplace Relationship, a bad fucking break up lemme tell ya, isn't elias a warning on its own at this point?, some heated kissing in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:15:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24539080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kasiarzyna/pseuds/Kasiarzyna
Summary: Avoiding Elias comes back to bite you in the assCan be treated as a separate work, but was originally a part 2 of "Usual Order"English is not my native language, pls be nice to me.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard & Reader, Elias Bouchard/Reader
Series: tma owns my bi ass [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1741156
Comments: 10
Kudos: 62





	Question Existing

You try to avoid Him as much as possible, ducking under desks and hiding behind any furniture. Of course, you know it's futile, you know he _Knows_ , he _Sees_. At this point, a month into the new "work conditions" you came to the realization that all the small acts of rebellion weren't about him. About doing something to him, getting a reaction from him.

They were for you, to keep you from loosing what was left of your sanity. It felt good, jumping behind boxes filled with statements, when he appeared around the corner. It felt like the old you, the one cracking jokes and dancing with Sasha (or... was it Sasha?) in the storage room, still lived somewhere inside, buried deep beneath the hurt. 

Because, before life went to shit, before Jane Prentiss kicked off the never-ending tragedies, working in the Archives was fun. Genuinely. 

Starting with Martin and his constant worrying ("Have you eaten today?" "Do you want some coffee?"), and ending with Tim's teasing you about basically everything. Hell, even your time with Elias was pleasant while it lasted. The lunches, the talks, the other things. You really thought you've found your place, found happiness. And when everything fell into ruin you were left alone, angry and bitter, fighting to feel some of that past lightness. 

That's where you are now, hunched over a wooden desk, stapler in hand as you try to sort loose statements. The occasional clicking of staples joining paper together the only sound in the stuffy office. 

You liked this job, it was monotonous and calming. Your mind could wander wherever it wanted, as your eyes scanned pages for similar dates and names. The coffee that Martin brought you some time ago was half drunk and forgotten. The green frog painted in a cartoonish style on the mug looked at you with pity in its round googly eyes. 

You really didn't know what was the point of keeping a catalogue of statements that were in fact false. They could be transformed into a good old Word document and packed into an Internet database, which meant, they were worth jack shit. Because the real ones could be kept only on tape.

As if on cue, the tape recorder, that you swore was not on your desk before you started working, clicked to life, the little wheels of the cassette turning. You looked at the thing, gave it a very stern look and sighed. This definitely wasn't the weirdest thing you've seen in this Godforsaken place. And yet, the audible whirl of the recorder immediately gets on your nerves. 

It was like the goddamn thing wanted you to say something, wanted you to be recorded. After a while of tapping your finger on the surface of the desk, you finally gave in.

\- Okay, what the fuck do you want? - you ask the inanimate object and feel pretty stupid for doing so.

Your voice sounds tired and hoarse. You realize you haven't said anything since Marting brought you coffee, which was... What? Four hours ago? Time sure flies by when you clip documents in solitude.

\- I'm literally not doing anything - you motion to the desk, as if the recorder can see you - Go away.

Just as those last two words leave your lips, a knock resounds through the room, making you jump in your seat. You shoot an accusatory glance towards the small machine.

\- I'm not here - you shout at the door, your old self peaking through for a split-second.

\- That is not true, I can _See_ you're in there - a matter-of-fact voice comes from the other side of the wood and your good humour packs its bags and leaves the country.

The door opens with a creak, an all too familiar and entirely unwelcome silhouette enters your safe room and closing the door with a soft click.

You look up at Elias, who just stands there for a moment, taking you in. His hands behind his back, hair slicked back, eyes always staring right through any defences you might've put up. 

Stylish, as always, with an impeccable taste in fashion and all things luxurious. The Devil truly wears a suit and tie, this time in a deeply green colour (His favourite, perhaps). Oh, how you hate the way he looks at you, eyes seemingly glowing under the soft yellow light of your desk lamp. Finally, after a moment of heavy silence, he moves further into the office, and you stand up, the chair scraping against the floor.

\- Please sit down - Elias pleads, tiredness already creeping into his tone of voice.

He never appreciated your attempts at rebellion. Even before the whole "I see everything" reveal, He would often scoff and treat you in a rather patronizing way, like you were a child that was acting up, just to get on His nerves, which... Well, okay, that might've been true, but still, you were a perfectly serious adult, that could make their own decisions and live their life however they wanted. Just because he _Knows_ doesn't mean he can treat you with that infuriating air of authority. 

\- I'd rather stand, thank you - you say, keeping your voice even, despite the sudden quickness of breath.

Your eyes shoot to the door, right behind Him. Unfortunately the way he was standing cuts off all means of possible escape. Although, you were pretty sure you could just shove past him. He was a tall, lanky man, no way was he any match for your muscles. Were the months spent lifting all those damn boxes finally going to be useful?

\- This won't take long, you don't have to be nervous - He assures you and moves even closer to the desk, cautiously, like He's approaching a wild animal and to some capacity, He's right.

\- Why are you here? - the beginnings of a headache form deep inside your skull.

Elias sighs, looks around the room and then back to you. There is something in his eyes, something entirely new. It pushes you to take a step back, further away from Him. Well, he certainly has the unsettling part down to a tea. 

Your hands begin to shake, seemingly unprovoked, so you turn them into fists and squeeze hard, nails digging into the soft flesh of your palms. If he notices (of course he does), he stays silent.

Instead, he untangles his hands from behind his back and lets them rest at his sides, a fake gesture of openness, that you recognized long before he turned your life into hell. Sometimes, he would lift his arms just slightly, expecting you to throw everything away and come to him like a trained pet. The fact that you did it every time is beside the point. 

You hate yourself for how your brain aches in anticipation of the familiar gesture.

\- I think it's time for your work performance review - he announces.

For a second, you just look at him dumbfounded. And then a humourless laugh tears through you, as you regard him with a sour smile. 

\- _Hilarious_ \- you deadpan, and manoeuvre your way from behind the desk, fully intending to sneak past him and out of the office.

He knows about your half-arsed plan, obviously, and before you can pass him, his hand grabs onto your wrist, encircling it tightly and keeping you in place.

Your breath catches in your throat at the sudden contact and you jolt back, ripping yourself out of his hold. Your back hits the shelf behind you with a thud.

\- Y/N, please calm down - his hands extend towards you in a calming gesture that you choose to ignore, instead glaring daggers at his seemingly unaffected face.

The sheer audacity of his words makes you laugh. It's raw and awful, and you feel your old, careless self get pushed back even further. 

\- Don't you fucking tell me to calm down - the venom in your voice does little more than elicit a twitch from his eyebrow, but you still treat it as a sweet victory.

\- Have I truly done you harm? - he asks with actual curiosity and never in your life did you want to slap him as much as at that moment.

\- Have you?! - you sputter, anger colouring your cheeks red - You've trapped me here, you've taken everything I care about.

The resolve you had just moments ago dwindles away, as the reality of your circumstance comes back to you in a crashing wave. Your gaze falls to the floor, shoulders slump. Despite everything hitting you so suddenly, you refuse to cry. Not now, not in front of him. Never again will you cry in front of Elias Bouchard.

Taking a moment to level your voice, your arms hold what's left of your integrity.

\- You've taken my freedom.

\- Yes, I did - he doesn't sound sorry, not even the slightest bit and it should make you mad beyond reason, but it doesn't

This time, when you feel his hand on your shoulder, cold and distant through your jumper, you don't run. Your muscles tense, sure, but you stand still, refusing to look him in the eye, for fear of what might lurk in there.

\- And if I could give it back to you, I would - he says, voice low, barely above whisper, his breath ruffles the strands of hair framing your face.

It sounds sweet. So sweet and tender, and sincere, that you want to believe. There is a part of you that wants to give up, to walk into his embrace like many times before. Sometimes you feel like this part is close friends with your old self, both buried and locked away from sight.

\- Don't say it like that - you plead and curse yourself for sounding so weak.

\- Like what?

You didn't know what you were expecting. He's going to make you say it, obviously. Fucking asshole.

\- Like you care.

Jesus fucking Christ, you've never wanted to throw yourself off the bridge as much as you do now. Needy little idiot, who never learns. Never knows when to shut up. Is there a special Patron for someone who's an absolute fucking idiot? Because they would have a blast making you their Avatar...

\- And what if I do?

Your brain goes blank, all thoughts blown away like a morning fog, leaving you to stare at him in poorly masked shock.

_That's new._

To be completely honest, he didn't outright admit to caring, but it was still more of a "feelings talk" than you both ever had. From the beginning of your... thing, you knew exactly where you stand. It was a way to relieve stress, to have someone to talk to during lunch, sometimes to drive you home (which would inevitably end in more stress relieving). It was, as most things with Elias, strictly professional. No caring, no love, nothing. And you were fine with that. You didn't associate sex with feelings and you treated the whole thins as "having fun".

Sure, when he stayed over until the morning, you were happy. But, it was a strictly professional happiness. Nothing more. Just like when he took you out on a spontanious dinners. Or kissed you in his office, _slowly_.

The rational part of your brain screams and begs you to run. To throw his hands off and get the fuck out of here. But there is a stinging question at the tip of your tongue that you know, will only make things worse for you. But you have to know.

\- Do you?

He's standing so close, you can see how the light reflects off of his long eyelashes. It's unbelievable how beautiful his eyes are, grey with small spots of green, focused solely on you.

Sometimes you wonder, does he use his powers to watch you, when you're not near? Does he follow you through your day, _observing_? And most importantly, does the notion bother you?

His hand moves up from your shoulder, fingertips grazing the sking on the side of your throat, inching towards your jawline.

This simple gesture singlehandedly knocks the wind out of your lungs in a pathetic gasp. You remember how easy it is to drown in him, in his very presence. His fingers find the back of your neck, toying with the loose strands of hair. Your own hands come up to rest on the planes of his chest, the material of his suit smooth under your palms.

\- Let's find out - is the only warning you get, before he dives down, his lips crashing onto yours with determination you didn't expect.

In this fleeting moment every part of your brain stays silent. You're not sure if they all collectively left, or if they judge you from afar. it doesn't matter, because you are standing here, hands gripping his suit to bring him closer, and Elias is kissing you. And the last time he did that was too long ago, and it terrifies you how much you've missed this feeling.

Elias moves his hand again, from the back of your neck, fully tangling it in your hair, nails dragging lightly through your scalp. The sensation makes you gasp into his lips, a moment of weakness he immediately takes an advantage of, pushing himself inside your mouth. His other hand finds it's place on your hip, dragging you closer.

And then he moves again, maneuvering your body backwards, until your legs hit the edge of the desk. That's where you draw the line. While you comply and sink down onto the surface, you make a decission not to take things further. 

He laughs into your mouth and somehow you know, he definitely heard that thought. Normally it would be unnerving, but right now it only serves to spark the fire of rebellion in you.

That is until his hand tightens it's hold on your hair and forces you to crane your head back, exposing your throat. Immediately his mouth detaches from yours and he ducks down, attacking the soft skin under your jaw with open-mouthed kisses.

You bite down on your bittom lip to stop yourself from making any more noise, as he finds that one spot just below your ear, that makes your body writhe against his. The hand that's not occupied with keeping your neck exposed, moves from your hip to your thigh, where Elias draws slow circles into your flesh.

Thank God you're wearing pants, otherwise you would've lost your damn mind.

Elias mutters something unintelligible into your skin, hot breath fanning over the sensitive flesh.

\- What did you say? - you ask, voice breathless.

He looks up at you, eyes meeting yours and for a moment you're taken aback by how ravenous his expression looks. His irises blown wide, nearly swallowing the grey and the green. You bite your lips again, knowing full-well how they're going to look later. But before any real worries overtake you, he descends back upon you cleavage, sucking on the sking right below you collarbone. Eliast detaches himself, only to bite down on the already abused flesh.

This time not even your strong will is able to stop the moan he drags out of you.

Satisfied with his work, he comes back up, leaning closer to your gasping lips.

\- _Mine_ \- he whispers, before kissing you again.

And because if this one word confession, you _Realize_. And then you can't stop realizing.

It phisically pains you, when you gather all the strenght you have and push him away.

Elias staggers back, colliding with a nearby bookshelf, his hair disheveled, lips bruised and surprisingly, he's smiling. A shiver runs up you spine, shaking you in your place, but before you find his demeanor entirely terrifying, you jump off the table.

\- There is no freedom with you - you voice your realization and watch as he grown serious again.

That's it. You finally got it. The intricacy of your relationship with him. There is no love, no caring, there never will be. Only ownership.

He humms lowly, watching you from the other side of the room, slowly but surely coming back to his professional persona.

\- You're smart.

\- Not smart enough - you counter - Otherwise, I would've seen right through you sooner.

He laughs again. It's a vicious sound, not an ounce of kindness in it.

\- You see only as much as I allow you to, darling - he sounds like saying those words brings him some unimaginable setisfaction - And it's just a grain of sand in a bloody ocean.

_Now_. Now you are properly scared.

The excitement from moments ago filling you up to the brim with adrenaline. Elias takes a step in your direction, arms stretches in such a familiar way, that it sends a bolt straight to your legs, and you run. Right past him, through the door, out to the corridors of the Archive. 

_And so, the game continues_. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this, you believe in the inherent eroticism of a work performance review.
> 
> i swear to god im still not an eliasfucker
> 
> if you want me to write a self-insert for any tma character, hit me up in the comments or @nerdonpluto on Tumblr and Instagram,


End file.
